Written in early December, 2010
Yesterday marked six weeks exactly since October 26, which was the date since I discovered his infidelity and betrayal.
Happily I have survived, but I never want to experience anything like that shock again. It felt like the ground had opened up beneath me and I was falling into a bottomless black pit. Everyone keeps telling me that it was not my fault, but I should have known better. He had proved himself untrustworthy when our daughter was little; it was foolish of me to trust him again without solid proof that he had changed and was worthy of my trust. I will never forgive myself for this mistake. I should have known better, and by not being more careful, I opened my heart up to devastation.
It was more than my heart; he had become my life. Mentally I “clicked” with him more than I’ve ever connected with another human being except for our daughter. We felt like halves of each others’ minds, or at least, it felt that way to me.
Sorting through the emotional wreckage strewn all over the floor of my being, I keep trying to draw a line between what was “real” between us and what was “false.” The line keeps changing. Do I draw a line according to the date when I knew that he first was unfaithful to me, or do I draw the line on an estimated guess of when he became interested in the other woman and began to lose interest in me? So that everything before the chronological point in time between us was valid and everything after invalid?
Or, to take his words, “I was in love with two women”- and apply them, then when he was with me it was real and when he was with her, it was not real, and it vacillated back and forth? But I don’t know all the times that he was with her, so how can I sort out the memories?
Finally, I have trained my brain to just stop thinking about it. Little by little, day by day, I think less about it. What does it matter, what was real and wasn’t? Wasn’t it all false, if his feelings for me were so shallow as to be so quickly set aside in pursuit of another woman? And to not even have the decency to break up with me? What a dishonorable cad! Who cares about him!
I have my own integrity and know that for the rest of my life I would never have cheated on him and that I would have moved down there in seven years to be with him, just as I said. I would have been true to my words, because I did not tell him anything that I did not mean. I loved him, as flawed as he was, and believed that he was faithful and honest with me. I was truly overjoyed to be reunited with him after eighteen years and although I knew that we both had lots of issues and it would not be an easy road to travel together, I was willing to travel it with him. When I made my committment to him back in 2007, it was 100%. And that’s all that matters. I can only be responsible for my own integrity.